


Daemon Slayer

by Choke-a-Bro (Vanya_Deyja)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: AU, Inuyasha style, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:40:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21790951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanya_Deyja/pseuds/Choke-a-Bro
Summary: Gladiolus is a daemon slayer in feudal Lucius. He's armed but alone when he stumbles upon a group of daemons sheltering at a Haven. He's never had any interest in empathising with his natural predators before but tonight might be different.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 18
Kudos: 129





	Daemon Slayer

Gladiolus has been trained his whole life to slay daemons but part of being the best, part of living to fight and win another day, is knowing when you're outnumbered.

Sometimes you've got to know when to run.

Gladio doesn't like legging it through the forest but the woods are packed with daemons tonight and his sword won't be enough to protect him from all of them. The place is thrumming, the auras are strange, and something has the whole choir of creatures riled but Gladio doesn't have enough back up to investigate. He needs to find a Haven and secure himself until sunrise.

The Havens of this region are little one room shacks erected on consecrated ground. Each cabin has a little white fence line that cannot be passed with ill intent. It's not much but its shelter enough from both the bastions of the Netherworld and the elements so Gladio pushes on to the firelight he can see through the trees.

He can tell someone else is already crouched around the holy fire inside the shack from the shadows through the screen like walls but he's not concerned. Whoever is resting there, waiting for sunrise, is as fragile as himself and unlikely to pick a fight. Besides, Gladio's a tall, broad, beast of a man and few men are stupid enough to pick a fight with him sober.

Gladio eases his posture as soon as he passes the perimeter of the fence line. He's safe now. He gives a cursory, warning, knock before sliding open the door on the shack and slipping inside. 

Gladio almost immediately stumbles back.

He fumbles for his sword but the daemon sitting by the fire doesn't rise up to greet him and Gladio begins to comprehend why a second later as his brain grapples with all the stimuli.

The daemon is full grown. It looks very human, eerily so, so it must be high ranking; either elemental or even constellational. It has the same bright, reflective, eyes you might catch in a fox or an owl. It's also male which is bad because male daemons are often very territorial whereas most females just want a quiet, isolated, spot to safely nest and rear their young. 

That said...

The daemon doesn't rise to combat Gladio. It just sits there, blinking steadily at him, watching him like a hawk watches a snake. 

The daemon is cradling two children in its lap, one in either arm. They both look male. The dark, pale, one is obviously equally demonic and high ranking with bright, unnatural, eyes that peer curiously at Gladio but the other child...

The lighter of the two children, blonde and freckled, looks human. 

Gladio hesitates.

Why is a daemon cloistered in a Haven with one of its own young and a human child?

"You may stay, human." The daemon announces with a kind of courtly eloquence. Definitely high ranking. Daemons have their own society and royalty after all. Not unlike the feudal human lords of Lucius. All clans fighting for supernatural dominance. 

"Daemons aren't permitted to use Havens." Gladio frowns, hand still lingering on the hilt of his sword. 

"Not under most circumstances, no." The daemon agrees levelly. 

Both Gladio and the adult daemon are evidently quite wary of each other. The daemon must be hindered in some way or it wouldn't be sheltering from its own kind. Likewise Gladio is only one man and the daemon could overwhelm him.

"If you intend to hurt that child," Gladio has to begin, "you should know we will come to blows." 

"If you touch either of my wards I will eat the flesh of your finger bones." The daemon replies, curt, articulate and ruthlessly certain of his stance. 

"Right..." Gladio slackens his shoulders a fraction. He is confused and unsure how to proceed. Humans are meat and slaves to daemons at the best of times, savages, insects and fucktoys at the worst. Since when do daemons take on human young?

"You should sit," the daemon invites but his tone is laced with an air of authority. "You are making my young nervous."

Grunting tensely Gladio eases his hand off his sword and consents to take a seat on the worn floorboards on the other side of the fire pit. 

The children, daemon and human, lift their focused eyes off Gladio to their alpha, to each other, back to Gladio now more curious than stilled with anticipation.

"Are you a samurai?" The daemon child asks.

"Shh." His alpha hisses.

Gladio purses his lips. He's never even seen a daemon child like this one before. He's seen daemon young, more beasts than anything, vile and savage and hungry but this little creature looks not unlike his baby sister back in the village. He has such a human voice and Gladio doesn't immediately know if he should answer him or not. He and his natural enemies don't usually have conversations.

"No," Gladio answers the question eventually. "I'm a hunter."

"Like boars?" The human child tilts his head. He looks well fed and clean for a stolen child.

"Like _us_." The grown daemon clarifies, voice low and warning. 

The children exchange another thoughtful look. They seem to be able to converse just from expressions alone. The human child looks up at his daemon guardian, bemused, but the daemon child seems fascinated by Gladio and his sword. Gladio's never seen eyes that blue. Human eyes don't glow that bright at night. It's kind of unnerving.

Gladio's not sure who's more uncomfortable; himself or the daemon alpha.

The daemon holds both its young in its lap, in its arms, refusing to let them creep away unsupervised. They might be ten, the children, but they're both very slender. Supernatural children don’t hold much body fat. They look like little adults, like dolls. The grown daemon looks about Gladio's age but Gladio's heard daemons live long lives and look very pretty for much longer.

The daemon is very handsome, unfortunately, and Gladio's sure a smile could unravel him into a trap without much effort...

Outside the Haven Gladio hears something. His hand returns to his sword hilt and the daemon gathers its young closer, tighter. It sounds, to Gladio's trained ear, like a horde is passing in the skies overhead. It sounds like a battalion of daemons growling and hissing and writhing through the clouds.

Gladio listens, breathless. 

One of the children whimpers very softly, frightened. 

"Shh," the daemon hushes with a softer tone, "they can't find us. It's alright, darling. We're safe."

Gladio frowns, glancing back over the tiny pack.

"Are they looking for you?" He wonders, more confused than ever.

The big daemon glares at him but under his chin the little daemon nods softly. 

"What has them all so riled?" Gladio asks, gently as he's able.

"This land is of one daemonic Kingdom," the daemon murmurs, "we are ruled by the Lucius Caelum clan. Tonight..." He hesitates. "Tonight factions of the clan are at war." 

Gladio nods slowly, listening to the horde grow fainter overhead. That makes a fraction more sense. A lone daemon with two children, one of them human, likely wouldn't have much luck fighting off a horde of its own kind. Gladio doesn't pretend to know anything about daemon politics. The creatures of the supernatural with whom mortals share this earth are mysterious and secretive. They're two overlapped but very much separate cultures; human and daemon. Still Gladio has watched feudal lords struggle for power his whole life. They carve out minor chunks of territory but there's always a war going on.

Gladio fathoms, very suddenly, how he would feel if he was on the losing side of a clan dispute, deep in the woods at night, with his baby sister...

Something inside him twists violently and he tries to shake it off. Daemons are killers, monsters. Just because they look human doesn't mean anything.

Still...

"I'm Gladiolus, by the way," he introduces as the horde fades away into the distance. He tries to be civil but the daemon adult looks suspicious. Gladio starts to think he must be frightened. 

"I'm Prompto," the human child greets with a weak little smile, obviously still nervously listening for the horde to come back and rip him out of his guardian’s arms.

"I'm Noctis," the daemon child adds, not one to be outdone by the bravery of his companion evidently.

"Noctis, Prompto," Gladio repeats back, "nice to meet you."

His eyes meet the adult daemon's gaze and Gladio tries, for once in his violent life, to be nonthreatening, to be welcoming even. The daemon frowns softly, staring him down, but eventually murmurs with some loaded uncertainty;

"I am Ignis."

"Looks like we're stuck here till the sun rises." Gladio shrugs, hands slumped in his lap. "I don't have much food in my pack but it might suffice." 

"We will survive. Thank you." Ignis refuses.

"Iggy..." Prompto whines softly, "I'm hungry though..." 

Ignis' frown deepens. Daemons can last a long time without food or water but human children? Not so much. Gladio can almost feel his concern.

"I..." Ignis seems to consider it. "Only if he takes a bite first." 

"Understood," Gladio concedes, peeling his pack off his shoulders and rifling through for some salted meat.

Gladio takes a bite and tosses the strip over the fire to the child. Prompto's hand lashes out, cat like, and catches the meat before he smooshes it into his mouth greedily. 

"Those are some reflexes," Gladio laughs softly.

"Prompto is a halfling." Ignis reveals.

That, again, makes a little more sense. Half human, half daemon.

"Daemon mother?" Gladio supposes. If the daemons decided to raise Prompto rather than some human village it seems likely.

"We are not certain," Ignis admits. "He was left unattended at night as an infant. The clan considers that an invitation to reclaim halflings. He has been with us ever since."

Gladio nods. There's a million possible stories there. Gladio's heard of human men who, upon finding their wife pregnant with a daemon's child, have beaten her to death and left the young abandoned in the woods. He never realized the daemons reclaimed those children.

"Thank you," Prompto murmurs, licking his lips of the last bits of salt. 

"I have more," Gladio assures, glancing to Ignis.

"Please...?" Noctis whispers, tugging at Ignis' clothing. 

Ignis sighs.

"No, thank you," he insists stubbornly. It's civil but Ignis likely still doesn't entirely trust a daemon slayer not to poison his young. 

"That's fair," Gladio nods. 

Noctis whines. 

"Tomorrow, Noctis,” Ignis tries to console.

“If those daemons are after you, where are you going to go when the sunrises?” Gladio ponders.

“We have allies to the South.” Ignis shrugs, not looking convinced. “Our fraction will not be wiped out in this squabble. We just need to reunite with them somewhere safe and plot our next move.”

Gladio nods.

“Are you their bodyguard? Their father?”

“Technically,” Ignis murmurs, “I am a royal advisor, a retainer. But I have been trained for combat.”

Still, advisors aren’t bodyguards Gladio rues. Ignis might know how to fight but he’s not a warrior. He’s in over his head.

Gladio hates how his heart continues to twist.

He’s a daemon slayer. He kills creatures like this. Just because these ones look human, just because he can understand their struggle…

His insides are at war. Aiding children, what ill fortune could come from that? Will little Noctis and Prompto grow up to remember that some humans are honourable? Would it make a difference? Oh and what if it doesn’t? What if Noctis and Prompto go on to rape, pillage and plunder human villages for miles and centuries to come? They’re daemons. Gladio is food, not a friend. Even if he does something, even if he helps them, like some fairytale samurai, who’s to say they’ll even care? Humans feel gratitude, do daemons?

“You should sleep, Gladiolus.” Ignis instructs. “Your strength will sap quicker than ours.”

“Right,” Gladio nods. He supposes he’ll have to trust Ignis not to slice his throat in his sleep. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” the children chorus softly.

Gladio sprawls on his back on the floorboards, head on his pack, curled away from the fire….

* * *

When Gladio stirs he can smell the early morning dew. Light is not much obscured by the thin walls of the shack but there’s enough shade to make stirring comfortable and the sun isn’t all the way up yet. It must be dawn.

Gladio senses someone close by, a form. He rolls over carefully, expecting the worst, but it’s just the daemon child. Noctis is on his other side, head tilted, watching him. Gladio stares back, watching the child’s eyes blink with that reptilian intensity, and Noctis finds his voice.

“I like your sword,” he whispers.

“It’s a family heirloom,” Gladio answers softly, pushing up onto his elbows to sit next to the child. He casts his eyes back but, to his surprise, Ignis is fast asleep with Prompto lulling in his arms.

“Ignis used a lot of magic yesterday,” Noctis explains. “He’s tired.”

“Of course,” Gladio nods.

“Can I see your sword?” Noctis asks hopefully.

“Well…” Gladio considers it. You never toy with daemon young while the parent is nearby. Parents can get mighty protective. “Let’s just not wake Ignis up, yeah? He needs his rest.”

Noctis nods keenly.

Gladio doesn’t unsheathe his sword. He merely lays it across his lap in his hands. He’s—He _was_ going to present it to Noctis but the daemon child crawls up to him, practically in his lap, and starts tracing the designs in his sheath.

Noctis’ fingers slip under the sword, testing it’s weight without removing it from Gladio’s careful supervision.

“It’s so light…” Noctis marvels.

“For you, maybe.” Gladio chuckles. “For a human its pretty heavy.”

“How long have your family had it?” Noctis ponders.

“Six generations.” Gladio answers.

“Wow…” Noctis seems genuinely impressed at that. But then six daemon generations is probably a lot more impressive than six human generations. “What’s your clan called?”

“Amicitia.” Gladio articulates carefully, clearly. “We’ve been expert hunters for many generations. It’s the family trade.”

“Do you kill daemons who look like me?” Noctis frowns, just a little.

“Not often.” Gladio admits. “Daemons like you don’t concern themselves much with human affairs unless they have to or they’re cruel. But lower ranking daemons hurt lots of humans and we have to protect our families.”

Noctis seems to understand that, he nods.

“Do you get paid?”

“Yes,” Gladio shrugs. “Villages and lords pay us to help them.”

“So you fight daemons for money.” Noctis pieces together. “Would you fight daemons for my money?

“I…” Gladio laughs weakly, insides twisting. “I don’t think Ignis would like that…”

“Cape Caem is a long way away.” Noctis reveals. “You fight daemons for money humans pay you. What’s so different about fighting some daemons for another daemon’s money? It’s the same job, isn’t it?”

“I guess so,” Gladio concedes.

“I’m not big enough to help much and Prompto’s only a halfling.” Noctis presses. “When we get to Caem we can give you gold. We probably have more than the humans do. Can’t I hire you? Please? Iggy’s scared. He won’t say it but…” Noctis glances back down at the sword.

Gladio can’t quite close his mouth but he can’t look away either.

 _Fuck_.

Across the shack Ignis stirs, gently at first, but when his eyes crack open and he spots Noctis on Gladio’s side of the shack he lurches up violently.

Noctis glances back at him, Gladio meets his gaze, and Ignis looks ready to jump out his skin but some part of him seems to compute Gladio, for all the opportunity, is not hurting Noctis. Gladio had his chance and he didn’t take it. Noctis is fine.

Ignis’ shoulders slacken.

He turns and, without acknowledging the scene, starts waking Prompto gently.

Prompto mumbles and whines but eventually sits up.

“We should get going.” Ignis tells the children.

Gladio grips his sword a fraction tighter.

 _Fuck_. 

“I should thank you, Gladiolus, for being so civil.” Ignis remarks. He stands before Gladio, Prompto holding one of his hands, Noctis being tugged up by the other.

Gladio sighs and forces a tight grin.

 _Fuck it_.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he laughs, “Noctis tells me we have a long way to travel.”

“Pardon…?” Ignis frowns.

Noctis lights up at his guardian’s hip.

“I’m escorting you to Cape Caem,” Gladio announces, pushing up to his feet.

“No, you are not.” Ignis insists, head shaking.

“Oh yes I am,” Gladio replies nonchalantly. “You’re too late. Noctis already hired my services.”

“Your services?” Ignis scoffs.

“I kill daemons. You have some daemons that need killing.” Gladio shrugs matter-of-factly. “I’ll be your bodyguard until you make it safely to your destination.”

“I…” Ignis looks frazzled but likewise mystified. There’s something else in his eyes too, something subtle, maybe gratitude? If daemons feel that?

“You can pay me later.” Gladio assures, trying to assert his bravado like this isn’t a huge fucking deal.

“R-right…” Ignis relents weakly. “I suppose—I…”

“Shall we get going?” Gladio offers. “I bet the kids will both want breakfast.”

“Yes, of course,” Ignis takes a deep breath, trying to adjust. “Let’s get going. It is a long way.”


End file.
